Page 21 of Snowballed

“Sure.” His lunch is a wrap, a drink, and an apple, straight from the cafeteria.

“You look good out there,” he says.

“You too.” I noticed him, he’s a skilled centerman.

We both eat our sandwiches in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Do you snore?” Paul asks.

“Um. I guess a little.” I’m not exactly sure. My sister assures me that I do, but Lauren says I don’t. But it’s a pretty weird question.

Paul wears a sheepish grin. “My road roomie graduated. So, I’m looking for a new one.”

I nod. “What are your qualifications?”

He lists them on his fingers. “I’m quiet. I’m not too messy. I’m not a partyer. And I’ll let you control the television.”

“Sold.” I like to go to bed early, so I don’t want a partyer for a roomie. Paul seems like a nice, quiet guy.

We chat a little about the team and the coaches. It’s very low key, but I feel like I’ve made my first friend on the team. In a grade school move, I share the cookies that Zoe packed.

“These are really good,” Paul says.

“Right? I’m staying with a family, and all the food is like this.”

“Meyers farm,” he says.

“Yeah. How did you know?” I ask.

“Derek Meyers told everyone. He couldn’t believe anyone would want to live and work on a farm. Neither can I, mainly because I grew up on a dairy farm.”

I nod. “It’s pretty tough.”

“I sure don’t miss the 6:00 am milking,” he says.

Then he really wouldn’t like the 5:30 am milking. “Hey, can I ask you a question? Is there a way to get animals to relax when you milk them?” Zoe told me I’m too tense and the goats can sense that.

“I usually take ’em out for dinner and drinks first. That seems to do it.” He laughs.

“Real helpful,” I say.

“Seriously, we’re a big operation. All I do is hook ’em up to milking machines. But my mother had a little Jersey cow that she hand-milked for our family’s use. She used to sing to it.”

“Well, that’s not going to work. I can’t sing,” I say.

Paul nods. “Nice to know there’s something you can’t do. You were putting us to shame out there today.”

“I’ve had the advantage of working at a hockey school all summer,” I say.

Paul doesn’t ask any questions about my family or why I’m living at the Meyers farm. And I’m grateful because I really don’t want to discuss my family crap. After lunch, he shows me where the bookstore is so I can get some school supplies. Then it’s time for my meeting with Coach Keller.

I make my way to the coach’s office. The door is closed, so I wait outside and scroll through my phone.

“Goodwin.”

I turn around, and Coach is motioning me into his office. I sit across from his desk in the small room. It’s a bit messy with books on hockey as well as leadership and evenThe Art of War.

“You looked good out there today. Ready to go,” Coach says.

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